A Perpendicular Expression of a Horizontal Desire
by Kiwako
Summary: In an unprecedented era of peace, there is a shortage of missions. Beggars can't be choosers, so Sakura is forced to expand her skill set for a mission that Kakashi assures her is NOT a seduction mission. Not exactly, anyway. Slightly AU, in a slightly silly Narutoverse where there is marginally more Western influence and Sasuke has two arms.
1. Chapter 1: World Peace

**Chapter 1: In which World Peace is not all it's cracked up to be**

_Optional Soundtrack: Kaboom! by Ursula 1000 (Cha Cha Cha)_

* * *

It was well past noon by the time Sakura flopped onto one of the weather worn stools at Ichiraku, barely throwing her arm out in time to catch the steaming bowl Teuchi slid toward her.

"On the house," he said, smiling kindly as always. "Busy morning?"

Beside her, Naruto snorted into his bowl of ramen. "When _isn't _it busy for Sakura-chan?"

Sai swallowed, as social norms dictated, and cleared his throat before speaking. "The Lovely Ino says that every Sunday, she stays home in ugly pajamas, stuffs her face—"

"Nobody actually wants an answer," Naruto pointed out amiably. "That was rhetorical_._"

Sasuke smirked. "Four syllables. I'm impressed."

"—lazes around all day—"

"Thanks. Wait…SASUKE, YOU BASTARD!"

"—reads smutty romance novels, and cries herself to sleep because she's forever alone."

Naruto, who was currently straddling Sasuke in the middle of the street and trying to grind his face in the dust, paused and turned horrified eyes toward her. "Wait, seriously? Sakura-chan, that's terrible!"

There was a distinct cracking noise as Sakura's chopsticks snapped within her fist, which may or may not have started to glow. A few splinters fell into her bowl and Naruto began to splutter about respecting ramen. Sasuke took that opportunity to shove Naruto off, then zapped him a few times just because.

"Nah, it's not all that bad," said Sakura, perhaps a little too sweetly, "because it's **not true.**" She punctuated this by stabbing the remains of her chopsticks into Sai's stool, dangerously close to his crotch. Then she returned to her own seat and accepted a new set of chopsticks from Teuchi. She smiled at Sasuke and Naruto as they returned to their seats like the nice, civilized boys they were. "So, Sasuke-kun, how has your day been?"

"Hn."

"Wonderful!" she effused. "What about you, Naruto?"

"Sakura-chan!" he whined. "You know I can't talk about it here," he said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "You know, all that super important future Hokage business and all. I'm not like those two, who sit on their lazy asses all day and _occasionally _get called in for D-rank missions."

"Right," said Sakura. "How could I forget that you're the great hero who ushered in a new era of World Peace? Someone ought to name another bridge after you."

Naruto puffed his chest out and beamed, too pleased to notice the sarcasm.

Still, she couldn't hold back a small smile before finally digging into her own ramen. Jokes aside, Naruto really was every bit as important as he thought he was, probably more. And he really had saved the world and brought an end to the Fourth Shinobi War, albeit with the aid of the rest of the Team 7. He had a way of touching people's hearts, cheesy as it sounded, and had deeply moved every single ninja in the alliance, especially the five Kage. Tsunade and Kakashi had spent the past year capitalizing on his momentum, organizing united relief efforts and brokering treaties to balance the need for individual leaders to uphold their village's best interests against the importance of cooperation. As a result, the continent was experiencing an unprecedented period of World Peace.

It was great.

It was also kind of awful.

In the absence of war, or even the threat of war, there was little demand for warriors, even ninja warriors. Once the initial slew of "clear the rubble" and "build basic shelter" missions ran out (which took all of one month thanks to Naruto's army of overzealous kage bunshin), there really wasn't much left for most people to do. These days, Naruto was usually sent on A-rank missions to show up at diplomatically symbolic events, eat ramen with important figures, deliver charmingly candid speeches about Teamwork and World Peace, and make sure the public got lots of memorial photographs. It was ironic that in proving himself to be a consummate shinobi in all aspects, he had earned himself the most un-shinobi role in Konoha's history.

In contrast, Sai's missions tended to involve drawing reward posters for a wealthy lady whose cats had been missing since Pein's attack. Sasuke's missions were marginally more useful, but no more exciting: while Konoha's power plant was being rebuilt, he was mainly hired out to various families who needed an emergency power supply. And Sakura? She didn't even get to go on missions anymore. She spent most of her waking hours in the hospital, which was busier than ever.

Job security, she decided, was a real bitch.

("But at least you have a source of income," Naruto had countered. "Unlike the bastard, you aren't the tragic heir to a wealthy, but very dead clan. He could keep doing nothing for the rest of his life and still be loaded.")

Sakura was drawn out of her thoughts when Sasuke laid some bills on the counter and rose to his feet.

"I'm off to the Hokage's office," he announced. "To receive details on a rescue mission that will involve more than _sitting on my lazy ass all day and being used as a vapid poster child for World Peace._"

Then he disappeared in a violent swirl of leaves. Naruto wasn't 100% sure what vapid meant, but hollered profanities in his wake, anyway.

"Why haven't I been asked to draw your posters?" demanded Sai.

* * *

Sakura's afternoon in the hospital was comparatively uneventful. She was double-booked for checkups for the rest of the day, and, as luck would have it, everyone decided to show up. While routine visits required considerably less chakra than emergency surgeries, they were exhausting in their own way. It was mainly the more powerful shinobi that came in for health checkups since they were the ones who sustained the sorts of injuries that were nasty enough to require follow up. Incidentally, powerful shinobi also made up her least compliant patient population.

So when Sakura finally kicked open the door to her office, arms full of patient charts and other semi-urgent paperwork, she was almost surprised to find her second-worst patient sitting in her custom, ergonomic swivel chair.

"Sasuke-kun?"

He studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering on the stack of papers. "Sakura."

"What brings you to my office?" she asked, crossing the room. "Since I doubt this is a social visit."

He stayed put, even as she dumped her papers on the desk and hovered pointedly beside her chair. It was typical Sasuke, showing up unannounced and making demands from_ her_ throne. Not that she really minded. At least he showed up, unlike Kakashi.

"I need medical clearance to go on a B-rank mission," he said simply. She tried not to be jealous that a mere genin, albeit a highly overqualified genin, got more adventure than she, a highly qualified jounin.

"But you haven't had any serious injuries since your deathmatch with Naruto last year." Which, incidentally, hadn't actually resulted in either of their deaths and ended up being more of a heart-to-heart.

Sasuke felt no need to respond, opting instead to tug his shirt off and look at her expectantly. It was a testament to the bonds of Team 7 that this wasn't a whole lot more awkward than it was, considering she had confessed her undying love a few times and been knocked out in response. But having feelings for someone was nothing to be ashamed of, so she refused to act as if it were. And Sasuke didn't seem to think any less of her for it, either. He just acted as if it had never happened, treating her with the same careful distance he treated Kakashi.

Her own feelings toward Sasuke were rather complicated, of course. She still loved him, but less desperately than she had while he had been determined to destroy the world in the name of revenge or, later, to destroy it in the name of justice. Whether love or hate, emotions of any extreme could be rather draining, and her feelings for him had long encompassed elements from both ends of the spectrum. So in the immediate aftermath of the war, when she found herself physically, mentally, and emotionally spent, there was a period where she simply felt nothing. At last, when all that was left between them was an easy but affectionless familiarity, she was relieved to discover that their bond would never truly dissolve. And when she finally stopped worrying about the ways he had changed, she finally understood the ways he hadn't changed. And that was when she realized she still loved him.

"Tch."

He seemed to sense, with some annoyance, that he did not have her complete attention.

"Fine," she groaned. "Sit up here."

She swiped her arm in a small arc across her desk, sweeping some of her junk onto her beautiful, hardwood floor. She deliberately avoided clearing too big of a spot, because she made a point not to be overly accommodating for entitled boys who couldn't be bothered to go through the proper channels.

"Even when you're only doing D- and C-rank missions, you still need to come to your follow up appointments, you know."

"Why?" The corners of his mouth curled into a sardonic smile. "It's not like you ever screw up the first time around."

She was pretty sure there was a compliment in there if she squinted hard enough.

"True," she admitted, bending his arms as she tested his passive range of motion. "But sometimes bigger problems can overshadow smaller ones, and we don't find out until you come back for follow up."

"Hn."

Once she was done with her musculoskeletal exam, Sakura closed her eyes, sending some of her own chakra in pulsatile waves through his chakra conduits.

"Sakura."

"Hm?" she asked, absently.

"Do you like this? Spending all of your time in the hospital?"

She opened her eyes, mildly surprised that he would ask. She was even more surprised when she decided to answer honestly.

"Yes," she said, "and no."

She focused her attention on his eyes, which were, in fact, Itachi's eyes and _not_ the same endlessly dark eyes she had swooned over for the majority of her childhood. Her chakra threaded smoothly through the intricate, spiraling channels. If Itachi had been practically blind, how was it that his eyes could be perfectly healthy just by being transplanted into Sasuke's head? It implied that the problem with the Mangekyou Sharingan was more in the optic nerves, or perhaps the brain. But unless any more vengeful Uchiha crawled out of the woodwork, it would be at least a generation or two before anybody could explore that further, if at all. More likely, someone already had but the information was classified.

When she finished, Sasuke was still watching her, waiting.

"I like being where my skills are most needed," she explained. "When I'm in the hospital, there are times when I am one of the only people capable of performing the procedure a patient needs. And there's a pleasant sort of efficiency to that, knowing I am in the place where I can do the most good with my skill set."

She paused, and still he waited.

"But I've trained to be a field medic, and without any combat exposure, I know I have other skills that will dull if I never get to use them. And one day, that could cost somebody's life." Like Naruto's. Or Kakashi's, or Sai's, or Sasuke's. Or her own.

"You sound just like her," he said, finally. "The Hokage. She was just lecturing me about the importance of putting some of my more unique abilities to use."

He turned away from her as he pulled his shirt over his head, as if she would be any less tempted to stare at the lean, corded muscles of his back than those of his chest, as if he even worried much about modesty. Or perhaps it was for her benefit, because he knew the sight of him could still take her breath away and he didn't want to compromise her respiratory function. He made a few hand signs, then glanced over his shoulder and offered her his customary half-smile.

"Thanks," he said.

Then she was left alone with one more patient chart to fill out and a small autumnal mess on her floor.

* * *

"How would you like to take a break from the hospital, Sakura?" asked Tsunade. She held out her empty cup and Kakashi immediately reached over to fill it. Apparently, she had her successor-in-training better trained than her apprentices.

"I wouldn't mind," said Sakura carefully, "but I'm not sure the hospital can handle it at the moment." In return for the raw materials necessary to rebuild the village, Tsunade had offered Konoha's unrivaled health services to any shinobi who had served during the war. It may have worked a little too well, as both materials and patients were pouring in.

Tsunade waved her hand dismissively. "I'll handle that. It's high time Kakashi took on more Hokage duties, anyway. Let me ask you again: would you like a break?"

"Then, yes. I haven't been able to train as much as I'd like as of late." Pulverizing boulders had always been highly effective stress relief.

"Hmph." Tsunade threw back another cup of sake, and motioned for more. "That makes two of us."

She held out a scroll, and Sakura took it.

"Then you can consider this your vacation. Up to two trips to fancy hotels in fancy cities, and several weeks of free dance lessons. How fun."

For a moment, Sakura eyed it suspiciously. What was so important that Tsunade would not only sacrifice her chief of staff, but volunteer to take on the extra hospital duties herself? Then she noticed Kakashi visibly wilting amidst the stacks of official Hokage paperwork that would soon be his duty. He may have been mouthing "help" at her, but he was wearing that stupid mask, so there was really no way to know for sure. Tsunade, she decided, was both brilliant and absolutely heartless. Fears dispelled, Sakura cracked the seal and unfurled the scroll—a mission, at last!

"A wealthy family—practically royalty within the ballroom dancing world—reports that their daughter-in-law, Yuna, one of the current world champions, has gone missing. Their son, her partner, has a number of suspects, all virtually untouchable due to financial or political reasons, but he cannot be sure exactly who is responsible. The least conspicuous way to approach all of them would be to entice them to approach you instead."

Tsunade held up a picture of a small woman with a sleek, lacquered black bun. Then she fanned out several other pictures, some of her, and some of a variety of other people.

"She disappeared one month ago, after they qualified for the world championships taking place in a month and a half. Ballroom couples have a reputation for being passionate, but volatile, so police have concluded she simply left on her own. Frankly, I suspect they've been bribed. The clients have asked that you infiltrate one, maybe two, competitions as a dancer to investigate her disappearance and bring her back."

"Why me?" asked Sakura, brows furrowing. "I mean, I can do it, but this sounds more like someone else's specialty." Like, say, Ino's…sparkles, dramatic makeup, commanding the attention of an adoring crowd…

Kakashi stifled a laugh, which was disconcerting because his favorite orange book was miraculously absent and Naruto wasn't around to make a fool of himself.

Tsunade cleared her throat. "You're right. We weren't originally planning to send you. But the clients just revealed that the missing woman is pregnant, and we do not know what sort of medical attention they may require when you find them. If we recover both of them in good health, they are willing to pay as if this were an A-rank mission, maybe even S-rank."

"I see," said Sakura, although she didn't really. Ino was a medic, too. "I have the medic part down. But I don't have any sort of background in performance or dancing." That sort of training was more for the girls who specialized in espionage and seduction missions, stuff that required more subtlety and less of the indiscriminate destruction Team 7 was known for. However, this was a mission for her, not for Team 7…

"Don't worry. It's not a seduction mission," Kakashi broke in, eyes crinkling conspicuously above his mask. "Not exactly, anyway."

Somehow, Sakura was not comforted.

"Don't worry," Tsunade echoed. "Our clients seemed to think that was an advantage, that they could train you from scratch. They are also training a partner for you, one who is already shaping up to be an excellent dancer."

"Prodigious, one might say," added Kakashi, ever helpful.

Tsunade gave him a sharp look, then smiled fondly at her favorite pupil. "I have complete faith in you, Sakura."

Sakura was even less comforted.

* * *

The clients arranged to meet her the next morning in a small studio a few blocks from her apartment. She used to walk past it on her way to the academy, but she couldn't recall ever seeing it in use. But she remembered peering into the windows on occasion, taking in the expanse of mirrored walls, the polished wooden floor, and the giant crystal chandelier. It was surreal, then, when she stepped inside for the first time and discovered it was just as grand as she used to imagine it was.

"Good morning." It was a woman's voice, muffled, and it took a moment for Sakura to locate its source. She was seated on the floor, bending so far forward that her cheekbones were touching her shins. For a middle-aged lady who couldn't perform an anti-aging jutsu, she looked remarkably good. She probably had a naturally willowy build, but it was further accentuated by her form-fitting black attire. Sakura took mental notes. "Please, come join me."

So Sakura did, silently mirroring the woman as she ran through a series of unnecessarily complicated stretches. Still, it was nothing compared to what Tsunade had once put her through. Sakura hadn't even realized the human body was so flexible until she'd been forced to contort herself in the craziest ways to avoid Tsunade's chakra-fortified fists.

Once the woman seemed content that she was sufficiently limber, she began to lead Sakura through some warmups. First they stood in front of the mirrors, feet planted hip-width apart and toes slightly turned out, and moved their ribcages in slow circles, keeping everything below the waist perfectly still. Then they reversed it, moving their hips in circles but keeping everything above the waist still. Then they switched to other patterns, winding their hips around in figures of eight, and then swaying their hips while taking steps to the side, forward, and back. Then she turned on some music—something with a slow but pulsing beat—and they did everything all over again.

From a pragmatic-warrior-not-dancing-seductress standpoint, it was all very inefficient, Sakura thought, with lots of extraneous effort and wasted motion to just walk around. It made her feel very silly, although she imagined learning to dance was a lot like cleaning a messy room: things probably got much worse before they got any better. And eventually, she'd be prancing around, the very picture of feminine power and grace. At least nobody she knew was around to see her make a spectacle of herself in the meantime. Silver linings, and all that.

The woman looked pleased when they were done, and Sakura couldn't help but wonder if the whole thing hadn't been some sort of test. Good thing Sakura wasn't one to fail tests. Except for the chuunin exam.

"Haruno Sakura-san? Thank you for agreeing to rescue my daughter-in-law and my grandchild." She bowed politely. "You may call me Miyuki."

Sakura inclined her head in return. "I will do everything in my power to return them to you, Miyuki-san."

"The first competition we'd like you to infiltrate is in two weeks, and you need to place in the top 3 in order to qualify for the second competition. " Miyuki smiled. "I believe we've made the right choice by hiring you. Two weeks is not a lot of time, but based on what I've seen, I'm confident you can become appropriately accomplished latin dancers. I have high hopes for the two of you, my dear."

Miyuki nodded to Sakura, then to the corner. Sakura followed her gaze, where a pair of young men leaned against the studio door.

"That's my son, Yuzuru. He's been training your partner, that gentleman with the dark hair, since yesterday," Miyuki was saying. "Have you met?"

Sakura stared for a moment, taking in the familiar dark eyes, the slightly tousled ebony hair, the naturally pale, unblemished skin, and the sardonic smile. How long had he been there?

Shit.

"Yes," said Sakura. "We have."

* * *

**A/N: **Welcome! As November 10 draws near and my Team 7 and SasuSaku feels skyrocket, I find an increasing urge to contribute to this lovely fandom while I have a chance. And to put off doing schoolwork. So, please enjoy my debut work! I welcome feedback of any kind.


	2. Chapter 2: Ballroom Bootcamp

**Chapter 2: In Which Konoha Holds its First Ballroom Bootcamp Ever**

_Optional Soundtrack: Straight to Memphis, by Club Des Belugas (Samba)_

* * *

Sakura pounded her fist into the ground, splitting a yawning chasm into its surface. The aftershock rippled through the earth, sending a dozen clones careening into the sky, where they popped out of existence, not unlike overinflated balloons. The original sat crosslegged in front of her, hovering just out of her range. "Jeez, Sakura-chan. That bad?"

"No," she growled savagely. She crouched down then launched herself toward him, fist cocked. "Worse."

Naruto yelped and scrambled out of her path, while several of his clones nobly sacrificed themselves to cover his escape.

"Hey," he called from above. "Then why don't we just have a nice, therapeutic talk about it? I'm good at that, you know? Just ask Sasuke."

Sakura's eyes narrowed dangerously. Wrong move.

She unearthed a tree, whirled it through the air to pick up some momentum, then swung it at him like a flyswatter. Since the reunion of Team 7, the only reason Konoha remained hidden in the leaves was because Yamato made it his personal mission to regrow the forests every night.

"Over ramen? Please?" he pleaded uselessly.

She lobbed the tree at him, anticipating his attempt to dodge, and punted him clear across the field.

"DAMN IT! WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO CLEAN UP AFTER THAT BASTARD?!"

* * *

Sakura shifted closer to Sasuke, who stood facing her, gently clasping her right hand within his left. In an alternate universe where they were madly in love or even just friendly strangers, this might not have been such a bad place for her right hand to be. But as it happened, they were in their usual universe, just having a dance lesson. And her palms were sweating.

"We'll start with rumba, which will serve as the technical foundation for your other four dances."

Sakura, the follow, stood in front of Sasuke, the lead, her left hand resting delicately near his shoulder, right by the very defined line of his deltoid. His right arm was under her left, with his hand placed right under her shoulder blade. Miyuki adjusted her shoulders, her arms, and even the placement of each of her fingers on his arm, straightening some and curling others. The goal was to make it look less like she was holding on for dear life. Miyuki did not need to fix the Great Sasuke Uchiha, Dark Avenger Extroardinaire.

During this process, Yuzuru droned on and on about the rumba:

"The rumba is the slowest and most romantic of the latin dances, so judges will expect the most body action simply because you have the most time. It is danced to music with a four-four time, with an emphasis on the four-and-one. By that, I mean that in general, you take a step on the two and another step on the three, but you use the entirety of the four-and-one to take just one step. You fill up that time by delaying your weight transfer, keeping your weight split between your feet as you move forward beginning with your ribcage, your knee, your foot, and then finally your hips, like so: foooouuuur and one, two, three, foooooouuur and one, two, three, foooooouuur and one, two, three, fooooouuuuur and one, two, three, foooooouuuuur and one, two, three, fooooooooooouuuuuuur and one, two, three…"

After a few measures, Miyuki motioned for them to try it, too.

"Don't worry," she whispered to Sakura, who was getting rather sick of the phrase, "Sasuke-san already knows his part perfectly. Follow his lead, relax, and just _feel _the movement of his hips through the connection in your hands."

Then Sasuke took a step to the side, and to her surprise, the shifting of his hips as he transferred his weight was actually rather easy to feel, his movements slightly exaggerated by his Cuban heels.

* * *

"Hang on," said Naruto, cackling. "The bastard's wearing _heels_?"

Sakura smiled in spite of herself. "Yeah, that's actually kinda funny. Or it would be. It doesn't seem to bother him, and he never trips up. It just makes him look even taller."

"What?!" cried Naruto. "He doesn't even look stupid in heels?!"

"No, the swishy black dance pants usually hide them. And it's not like he's wearing stilettos or something."

"Damn. Maybe I can find him some official shinobi body glitter…"

Well, Naruto was nothing if not persistent.

"I hope you do. Now will you _please_ hold still? I can't fix your ribs when you keep squirming and laughing and talking all the time."

* * *

They spent the whole morning on their rumba basics. More accurately, they worked on Sakura's basics. They worked on open position, where they were farther apart and Sasuke just held her right hand. They worked on having just the right amount of tone in her arm, so that it was relaxed but not limp. They worked on having her move her free arm delicately, so that it followed the motion of her ribcage and so that she lead the movements with a graceful elbow and followed through with elegant fingers, slightly more like a ballerina and lot less like a bar brawler.

The thing that Sakura struggled with the most was just walking, because it wasn't really walking. She could never let her feet completely leave the floor, dragging the pads of her toes across the floor and always keeping her toes turned out. She had to lead each step with her knee, leaving most of her weight on her stationary leg, so that as one knee went forward, her opposite butt cheek moved back. It was a lot to ask of someone. And even when she thought she finally got the hang of it, Miyuki just clicked her tongue.

"I can see the light of day between your thighs," she said, punctuating her statement with a gusty sigh. "The point of latin dancing is to leave your audience entranced, to make them desire the opportunity to discover what's between your legs." Sakura's cheeks flushed, but Miyuki continued ruthlessly. "It defeats the purpose if you just show everyone right off the bat."

Then she produced a strip of paper and had Sakura hold it between her thighs, centimeters from her crotch.

"This shredded piece of paper is what remains of your dignity." She declared. "Now try dancing again, but do NOT lose your dignity this time."

Sasuke committed the absolutely unforgivable sin of smirking at her.

Once Miyuki was satisfied that they had completely soaked up their rumba crash course, they took a break for Yuzuru and Miyuki to do a short demonstration of some advanced figures they would actually need for the competition.

When they danced, Sakura completely forgot they were mother and son, which was definitely weird but mostly impressive. For a few minutes, all she saw was the tumultuous love story that played out in front of her. Sometimes the woman stepped back, only for the man to tug her right back in, drawing her closer on the next step. But he never let her stay too close. Whenever she came back to him, within moments, he was pushing her away, ambivalence clear in both of their steps.

Beside her, Sasuke's eyes burned red, and she knew he was already internalizing the steps, rearranging them and modifying them in his mind. And for the first time, Sakura wondered if two weeks was going to be enough to whip her into shape. Unlike Sasuke, she couldn't simply activate the Sharingan and instantly dance just as well as professionals who had devoted their entire lives to ballroom dancing.

* * *

"Stupid Sharingan," spat Naruto, ever loyal. "He's so OP."

Sakura healed the last of the contusions on Naruto's abdomen, then stepped back to give him a once-over. "OP?"

"Overpowered. The gamers at that convention I spoke at last week use it all the time," he informed her. "Did you know they're making a video game about me? It's called Ultimate Ninja. Cool, right?"

"Quite," she said, not at all jealous.

* * *

"Relax," hissed Sasuke. "Tensing up like that just makes it worse."

They were working on the paso doble, a dance meant to mimic bullfighting in some obscure nation. In this dance, Sasuke was a bullfighter, all powerful lines and effortless agility. Sakura was alternately the cape he flaunted and the bull that was unsuccessfully trying to maul him. At the moment, she identified more with the bull role: his natural superiority was a lot less charming than she remembered from their genin days, and a whole lot more irritating.

Sakura scowled. "Then _you_ relax. I'm only tense because you are."

That wasn't really true. She was tense more because the dance was just weird. While rumba had seemed unnatural, it was really just a matter of letting certain leg muscles go strategically limp at the right times. The paso, however, was truly unnatural. Since it was a like a bullfight, they had to hold themselves with their knees slightly bent and their butts tucked in, as if a bull could sneak up behind them at any moment and impale their butts. This meant their pelvises were thrust awkwardly forward all time and it felt kind of stupid.

Otherwise, it was a fun dance, with lots of aggression and sharp movements and stomping. And if she got frustrated and frowned a little, she got congratulated for staying true to the character of the dance. Sasuke was good at the stern face thing, too.

It was not until they finally started working on the jive that Miyuki and Yuzuru had any sort of constructive criticism for Sasuke. Jive, Yuzuru had explained, was very fast and the most athletically demanding of the dances. In a competition setting, some couples were great dancers, but got weeded out simply because they didn't have the stamina for consecutive rounds of jive. Not only was it fast, but it had a more playful character, so it was important to make it look effortless and fun. Naturally, Sasuke had no trouble making it look effortless because to him, it was. The fun part was the problem.

So Yuzuru suggested he focus on childhood memories of time spent with his family, or with his best friends. Sasuke very sensibly did not dwell on the topic of his family. Instead, Sakura was pretty sure he thought about Naruto because he produced a rather vicious smirk. Miyuki assured him that it had a thrilling bad boy air and was very sexy, but it did not quite capture the mood they were going for.

For a moment, Sakura entertained hopes that the emotionally constipated golden boy might fail to deliver for once. But Sasuke just nodded curtly, restarted the music, and danced it again with a perfect, charmingly boyish grin.

Miyuki and Yuzuru were in raptures over him, excited about the all the hearts he was inevitably going to steal at the next competition. Then they asked Sakura if she could try to match his enthusiasm because her smile looked rather forced in comparison.

* * *

"Huh," mused Kakashi, "He grins? I don't recall teaching him that. I guess I'm just a natural when it comes to this rehabilitation stuff…"

"You're late," snapped Sakura. "And I don't recall you ever teaching _anything_."

Kakashi ruffled her hair affectionately. "I give the Godaime full credit for your bad attitude. Good thing you're so adorable when you're angry, I'm willing to overlook the fact that you two went on vacation and _threw me under the bus_."

Naruto looked up from his ramen and gasped. "Sakura-chan! But those who abandon their teammates are trash!"

"No," said Kakashi, patient as a saint, "they're worse than trash, Naruto. Would you believe it? She and Tsunade conspired to saddle me with decades of work. The paperwork is so backlogged, I just approved the proposal to build the ninja academy."

Naruto cocked his head to the side, confused. "Then why are _you_ doing it? If none of our predecessors have ever done it, I'm not going to, either."

"Hmm." Kakashi nodded sagely. The boy had a point. "I suppose it would be unwise to mess with generations of tradition while the real Hokage escapes to the hospital for a vacation, and her apprentice—"

"This is no vacation, and you know it," Sakura interrupted, snarling. "You knew Sasuke-kun was assigned to this mission all along!"

"Naturally," said Kakashi. "I assigned him, too."

"Hold up!" Naruto threw up his hands in disbelief. "_You_ made Sakura do this? You're both trash!"

"Worse than trash," corrected Kakashi.

"Get it right, " added Sakura.

* * *

"How about this one?" Yuzuru held up a one-shoulder dress, made entirely of electric blue fringe on flesh-colored mesh. "I'm afraid we can't let you use any of Yuna's newer costumes, they were custom-made and would definitely be recognized."

"Oh, I don't mind," said Sakura. There were several dozen dresses laid out before her, constructed from various combinations of fringe, strategically placed illusion netting, Swarovski crystals, marabou feathers, and a frightening absence of fabric. "Really. Never in my wildest dreams have I ever imagined wearing dresses like these."

Not even in her nightmares, in fact.

That said, the dresses really weren't all that bad—certainly nothing worse than the things her fellow kunoichi had been known to wear, just sparklier and rufflier; eye-catching.

"Yuzuru-san, I need to look the part of world-class dancer. What would stand out the least?" she asked. The she remembered she was supposed to be able to think like a world-class dancer, too. "I take that back, what would stand out the _most_?

"Honestly?" Yuzuru asked. He clicked his tongue in a manner reminiscent of his mother, scanning the options. Then he picked up a jewel-encrusted bra and a matching micro-mini tube skirt, with something pale pink, sheer, and fluttery artfully draped over it all. "You know, I don't think she ever got a chance to wear this one. She commissioned it last year for our honor dance—it's tradition to perform one when you win—but the runner-up couple got into such a row, they had to evacuate the ballroom. I think the follow had a bomb or a gun or something. It doesn't usually get that bad, most times fighting couples just smack each other or have screaming matches."

"Ah," said Sakura, eyeing the dress. If all dancers wore dresses like this, how on earth had a civilian managed to hide a bomb? Not everybody had skills like Tenten.

Yuzuru was still talking when it occurred to her that she should pay attention. "I think that's partially why nobody is taking this case seriously, we've developed such a melodramatic reputation over the past few years, it's downright tame for a follow to just walk out on her lead and disappear." He passed her the dress. "Try it on. If it fits, you should give it a test run this afternoon."

Unfortunately, it fit perfectly. And it matched her hair.

* * *

"Wait, I thought we were talking about why this mission sucks," said Naruto. "That sounds great!"

Sakura glared, then took a swig straight from the jug.

"It's not great," said Sai, as if surprised by Naruto's dimness, "because she's _ugly_. "

"Oh dear." Kakashi flipped the page of his book. "It's not good to get so drunk, Sai. You might say things you _really don't mean_."

"But I'm not drunk," Sai said flatly, "I meant it."

"No," Naruto shook his head, nervously watching Sakura as she upended the empty jug to make sure she hadn't missed any rogue droplets. "No, you didn't."

Kakashi and Naruto were visibly relieved when Sakura didn't seem to hear and simply slurred on.

* * *

Miyuki was thrilled when Sakura came out in the dress. She had sketched the design herself. Evidently, she was a multitalented woman, the paragon of womanly virtue.

"Sakura-san, you're soooo gorgeous! And so sexy, I don't know how any men can resist your womanly charms," she simpered.

Sakura laughed elegantly. "Oh, Miyuki-san, I don't know either."

Miyuki elbowed Sasuke. "Yeah, what's wrong with you? Bow down to your queen, you fool."

Sasuke glowered at her, barely sparing Sakura a glance. "Why? I'm not interested in her, even though I know she's still madly in love with me for no good reason."

"Why not?!" asked Miyuki, genuinely confused.

"Hn." He snorted. "I only have eyes for Naruto."

* * *

"Eh," said Naruto. "Are you sure that actually happened, Sakura-chan?"

Kakashi casually patted him on the head with enough force to send him face-first into his bowl of ramen.

"Ignore him, Sakura," he said kindly. "Please, continue."

* * *

Miyuki looked disappointed. "Really?"

"Really," said Sasuke. "That guy's the closest thing I've ever had to a lover."

"Liar," sneered Sakura. "What about Orochimaru?"

"Tch. I gave him my body, never my heart."

* * *

"Actually," said Kakashi, "maybe that's enough of that, Sakura." Sasuke's defection in favor of Orochimaru's questionable tutelage had always been a bit of a sore point for Kakashi.

"Ok," agreed Sakura with surprising ease. "I know! Let's cha-cha! No, wait, I'll teach you all the samba, it's perfect because we're all drunk—"

"But I'm not drunk," said Sai.

"—and Yuzuru said the samba is like drunken waltzing!"

Naruto hesitated a moment, then decided not to point out that she'd spent the whole evening trying to convince him she hated dancing. "But Sakura-chan, I don't know how to waltz."

Sakura gave his chest an irritated poke. "So?" She poked him again. "Nobody does."

"Actually," said Kakashi, "I do."

"Nobody does," said Sakura, again.

She dragged Kakashi to his feet and stood him in front of Naruto, then arranged their arms around each other.

"Dance position," she explained.

She stepped back to study them, and considered them a moment before nodding her approval.

"Now do what I do!"

Then she realized that since they were facing each other, if she wanted to stand in front of one, she had to stand behind the other. The problem, then, was that they could never both see her. But Sakura had always been rather quick-witted, so she soon solved the problem by inserting herself between them and barking out instructions and counts.

And that was how Sasuke found them half an hour later: Naruto was trying to roll his hips properly while Sakura just kept repeating some nonsense about imagining his butt was cupped within a giant spoon. Kakashi was present in body but certainly not in spirit, with his book propped on Naruto's shoulder but safely behind Sakura's head, out of her line of sight. (Incidentally, Naruto never sold Kakashi out, proving himself the only person on Team 7 who wasn't trash, or worse.) And Sai was on the sidelines, impassively documenting the whole spectacle.

"Tch."

Sasuke took in the situation, having just completed an extra D-rank mission to charge some kid's night light for the evening. Sakura had Team 7 whipped, as usual.

"This isn't what you think!" Naruto burst out. "We're not coercing Sakura-chan into having an illicit threesome with us while she's drunk."

"We probably could, though," Kakashi mused.

Sasuke sighed, infinitely glad that he hadn't actually gone through and executed Tsunade. He liked the practical, straightforward woman far more than he had expected, which was a pity because sometimes he had the sneaking suspicion she hated him. And as long as she reigned supreme, it meant that neither of these fools was in a position to destroy the village Itachi had sacrificed so much to protect. Yet.

"That's not what I thought, idiot." He held out his hand. "Sakura."

Sakura extricated herself and obediently slipped her hand into his. It was probably due more to force of habit from their ballroom bootcamp than to any lingering romantic attachment. After all, one generally gave up more and more rights to a girl's undying love with each subsequent rejection, with bonus points for those that involved murder attempts.

"I'm taking her home," he said, ignoring Naruto's kissy faces and Kakashi's smugly raised eyebrows. "We have a mission in the morning, unlike you."

"It's ok," Naruto stage-whispered to Kakashi and Sai. "He's just jealous he didn't get in on any action."

Sai looked doubtfully at Sasuke and Sakura's receding silhouettes. "If that was action, he spends all day getting it."

* * *

The next morning found Sakura trying to blink away a colossal hangover. Tsunade definitely had a jutsu to take care of these sorts of things, but there was no way she was going to go crawling to her for it, not after all the times she'd tried to convince her master to cut back a little. Although if she did, she suspected Tsunade would probably be somewhat proud. She might even give her a raise to fund an alcohol habit…

Oops. She remembered, with a jolt, that Miyuki was still talking.

"…being the most basic, is a good choice for your showdance. To expedite your learning, we've given you routines for all five dances, but in theory, you should be able to dance them spontaneously, using lead-and-follow as a team rather than relying on pure memorization of predetermined choreography." She looked pointedly at Sasuke. "Floorcraft, being able to navigate around the other couples, is essential. The lead must be able to predict the trajectories of the other couples and know instinctively which steps he could use to evade traffic, while still conforming to the proper timing and technique. The follow, in turn, must be able to react instantly and effortlessly."

Sakura nodded to show she was paying attention.

"Floorcraft is no longer as important during the showdance. Because only the finalists perform their showdances, only one couple is on the floor at a time. The goal is no longer just to demonstrate your technical skill, but to demonstrate your ability to _entertain_. So it is expected to be a routine, and you are allowed to include elements that are not otherwise allowed, like lifts."

Sakura nodded again to confirm she was still paying attention.

"So taking your personalities—Sasuke, aloof but intense, and Sakura, emotional and expressive—into account, we choreographed this rumba for you."

Miyuki started up a song, then walked slowly to the center of the floor, where Yuzuru stood with his back to her. She reached for him, but her fingers had barely brushed his shoulder when he shrugged her off, never even looking at her. Sakura caught some of the lyrics, noticing with some discomfort that the song was about unrequited love and metaphorical wounds that kept bleeding. Meanwhile, Miyuki had circled in front of Yuzuru and lifted a hand to his cheek. He leaned into it slightly, almost imperceptibly, then suddenly grabbed her hand and tore it from his face, but did not let go of it. This, Sakura recognized, was almost open dance position, and probably marked the transition from their opening into the main substance of the dance.

It wasn't. Yuzuru dropped the hand he had held just a touch too long, turned, and began to walk away while Miyuki stared longingly at his back. When she finally chased after him, pressing her cheek to his back while she hugged him, Sakura felt something in her chest tighten and twist at the familiarity of the scene. If simply watching the dance was uncomfortable, actually practicing and performing it with Sasuke would be torturous. The warmth of his back, her vision flooded with the red and white of the Uchiha fan, the scent of—

"No."

Sakura turned to Sasuke, surprised to see a muscle jump in his cheek, a telltale sign he was clenching his jaw. Miyuki and Yuzuru stopped.

"No," Sasuke repeated firmly. "For the success of this mission, I don't think rumba is the best choice."

"I agree," Sakura jumped in, gratefully backing him up. "I appreciate the work you have put into this dance, but we are shinobi. Competing against trained professionals like yourselves, it would be imprudent to pick a dance that highlights our ability to emote, when others can certainly do it better. Our biggest advantage is our physical capabilities: our speed and stamina."

"Ah," Yuzuru murmured thoughtfully, "so you think jive would be best for you two."

"Yes," said Sakura.

Miyuki nodded. "It has some merit. Being the fastest dance, if your technique is imperfect, _which it won't be_, it will be harder to notice during jive, while it would be unforgivable in the rumba."

"Definitely," said Sakura.

She had decided to arbitrarily agree with any reasons they came up with to support her plan.

"We should pick a song that's just a touch faster than what normal professionals can manage," Miyuki continued, muttering to herself.

"Sounds great," said Sakura.

Yuzuru smiled and motioned for Sasuke and Sakura to join them on the floor. "We'll be a little behind schedule, but I think we can do it. Let's just jump right in."

And for the first time, when Sasuke offered her his hand before leading her onto the floor, she gave his hand a small squeeze. He kept his gaze straight ahead, but she saw the corner of his mouth curl upward into a slight smile.

* * *

**A/N:** I finally see what all the fuss is about with wanting reviews. Every time I got an email about a favorite, follow, or review, it kinda made my day. So, thanks everyone!

Somebody commented about the title, but I really can't take credit. It's adapted from a quote by George Bernard Shaw that is well-known enough to be misquoted and misattributed. As a result, I'm not quite sure what the real quote is.

Also, true story: Bruce Lee was a cha cha champion.


	3. Chapter 3: The Jungle

**Chapter 3: Welcome to the Jungle**

_Optional Soundtrack: Victory!, by Bond (Samba)_

* * *

The evening before the 57th annual Fire Ball, Sakura and Sasuke were back in Sakura's former office, currently Tsunade's, for one last briefing. It was even messier than before. Once again, Tsunade fanned out two sets of photos on the desk. After two weeks of intense training, Sakura saw the dance photos of Yuna with new eyes, suddenly able to appreciate the degree of precision the woman was capable of. How much more passionate would Yuzuru's dancing be when he was back with his proper partner, and not just running through the motions with his mother?

"She's beautiful," murmured Sakura, trying to the study the photos without moving her head. Miyuki had been busy spraying and combing and pinning for the past half hour, and Sakura refused to do anything that would give her a reason to start over.

Yuzuru smiled sadly.

"Isn't she?" He drew in a slow breath, opened his mouth, then closed it. After a moment, he collapsed backward into his seat and tried again. "I replay that night in my mind every day, you know. I think of what I could have done to save her, of all the times I left her side and the celebratory drinks I shouldn't have had. I don't believe for a moment that she left of her own accord, I know she was kidnapped. She was so excited for the baby…"

He picked up five photos, two of young men in black with their hair neatly slicked back, one of a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair standing next to a slightly older man with thick-rimmed glasses, and one of a middle-aged man with silver hair streaked with black.

"The night she disappeared, all five of these people were witnessed spending time with her."

He pointed first to one of the young men, who was winking roguishly at the camera.

"Daisuke was her partner before me. He always had a temper and was somewhat controlling, which was why she left him. His family owns several important tech firms, so until Yuna left, he was used to solving most problems with money. He is somewhat, ah, bitter, shall we say, that she not only left him, but promptly found a new partner and started beating him. Even up until last year, he still used to send Yuna threats for humiliating him. He, on the other hand, has been having difficulty securing a new partner."

If that was the case, she thought the best approach to him would be to first demonstrate she was a good dancer, good enough to be a potential partner, and then convince him that she could be easily poached away from Sasuke, or perhaps to challenge him in a way that would remind him of Yuna.

Next, Yuzuru pointed to the other young man. This one looked somewhat more solemn, and was not exactly handsome, but not quite unattractive either.

"I suspect Shin and his new partner, Naoko, will win tomorrow's competition. They were supposed to compete against us last month, but they had to withdraw at the last minute due to an injury. They are Grass's top couple, and frequently placed in the top 3 until Yuna and I became champions. Shin is nice enough, but strange things seem to happen to the couples that compete against him, but he is always fine. Of course, there is no evidence of a direct relationship. It's all circumstantial, but still suspicious."

If their motive was to clear out the competition, then she and Sasuke would just have to establish themselves as a threat. In theory, it was straightforward, but realistically, it would probably be difficult to upset them enough to merit retaliation on the level of a kidnapping or murder.

When Yuzuru moved onto the picture of the middle-aged couple, Miyuki cut in, still painstakingly gluing individual rhinestones onto lacquered twists of Sakura's hair.

"Yukari and Toshi were once bitter rivals of mine. They were disgraced when Yukari was caught lacing a competition's water cooler with laxatives and possibly other substances, but nobody could take action against her because she was the daughter of an ambassador from the Land of Iron. She was still a minor at the time, so she had diplomatic immunity. The world has mostly forgotten these days, and they now run a successful studio. They've trained several champions over the years, but none of their current students have been able to dethrone Yuzuru and Yuna."

There was a deviously satisfied tilt to her lips, then, and Sakura glimpsed the former diva within the calm woman. If Sakura wanted to push buttons and make them misstep, the best approach would probably involve dredging up memories of Miyuki and her husband at their peak. She studied Miyuki's smug smile for a moment, watching it give way to a slight frown as Miyuki concentrated on gluing one last crystal onto her forehead. It had to be big in order to disguise her seal, which meant it would be distractingly obvious if it were even slightly crooked. Even frowning, however, the woman still looked good.

Yuzuru finally pointed to the last picture, the older man with the silver and black hair, standing gravely at the podium.

"A legend within the field. After his first partner died, he never kept a partner for more than a year or two, but always won regardless. He owns and runs several competitions, including the world championship ballroom classic next month, and the competition Yuna and I won right before her disappearance." Yuzuru hesitated a moment before continuing. "I've only included him because I don't feel he did everything he could to make sure she was found. I'm sure he didn't want the reputation of his competitions tainted by the bad press of a kidnapping."

So, no clear motive. That was good and bad: not much to go on, but no misleading preconceptions, either.

Tsunade reached into a drawer and handed several scrolls to Sakura, who opened the top one and tried to hold it in a way that would allow Sasuke to peer over her shoulder.

"Given these circumstances, we have prepared dossiers on these figures, and several others known to associate with them," she said crisply. "Daisuke and Shin are both registered for tomorrow's competition. The others may show up as spectators, but it is possible that you will not see them until the world championship. If that is the case, remember you must place in the top 3 at this competition to qualify for the next. We also cannot exclude the possibility of another, unknown group at work."

She broke off to hold her breath as Miyuki gave one last, long spray, enveloping the room in a cloud of hairspray. Sasuke discreetly turned his head to the side and gazed out the window, hoping the smell wouldn't stick but fairly certain it would. Perhaps Tsunade did not hate Sasuke as much as he feared, because she took mercy on him.

"Uchiha!" she barked. "Go with Yuzuru to finish up your preparations, and meet Sakura at the gate at 6. By wagon, it will take you two at least an hour to get to the capital. You are registered as Kusanagi Sasuke and Konohana Sakura. Dismissed."

Alternatively, maybe she just wanted him out of her sight. Either way, he did not linger any longer than necessary.

When the door clicked shut behind the two men, Tsunade turned to Sakura. "If he gives you trouble, just note it in your mission report."

Miyuki raised a brow, but Sakura just put on her most convincing smile and waved her hand appeasingly. "We're teammates. I don't anticipate any trouble. Really."

Tsunade smiled back at her. "You're well-trained. Still, if you want any special sleeping draughts…"

Sakura shrugged. "Sure."

Tsunade tossed her a tiny, crystal vial. If she could bore a hole through the stopper, she could probably pass it off as a pendant.

"That'll put anyone to sleep for at least four hours. There's enough in there for one dose if you slip it in someone's drink, two if you can get it in the bloodstream." She paused, but sensing there were no more questions, she pointed to the door. "Dismissed."

* * *

The Imperial Hotel was somewhat different from their usual stopovers during missions. Decorated in an opulent Western style, it was clearly meant to impress foreign dignitaries. Likewise, their arrival was also different from the norm. Team policy was that whatever you packed, you carried, so there was incentive to pack light. However, after Miyuki and Yuzuru had helped them pack "the essentials," it would barely have been believable that a normal civilian could have carried it all. And Konohana Sakura was supposed to be kidnapper bait, not an Amazon, so for the purpose of keeping up appearances, it was Sasuke who bore the brunt of the load.

After they arrived at the Imperial Hotel, the evening passed quickly. They checked in to their room and hung up their costumes in the closet before they got too wrinkled. Then they went to one of the reception halls to pick up their registration packet, which included a number to pin on Sasuke's back, a list of heats they would be competing in, and admission passes. Glancing around, they were independently relieved to find that their spray tans not only matched each other's, but those of their fellow dancers.

In the ballroom itself, there were a number of people milling around, halfheartedly dancing snatches of routines, wanting to test the floor but unwilling to reveal all their best moves. So Sakura and Sasuke followed suit. Like everyone else, their true goal was to stake out the competition, although their motives for doing so were slightly different. To this end, they were somewhat successful, easily identifying Shin and Naoko. Daisuke, however, was not to be seen. Finally, when it was clear that people were finally going to bed, Sasuke and Sakura split up, Sasuke to tail Shin and Naoko to their room, and Sakura to stay and look lonely practicing by herself for an hour or two in case Daisuke showed up.

He didn't, so she went back to their incredibly luxurious suite, where Sasuke was meticulously laying out his things in perfectly straight lines. It was almost endearing, his neuroticism. But it was a good idea, so she claimed the coffee table and got a little too much satisfaction out of outdoing his array of hair products. Then they went to bed—and thankfully, there were two—and tried to sleep. This was more of a challenge for Sakura, as her hair had been sprayed rock solid. It was practically indestructible, impervious to wind, humidity, sleeping, sweating, dancing, water, shuriken…

When she finally fell asleep, the night passed quickly, too.

Too quickly.

Sakura woke up to the feeling of a puff a breath against her lips. Opening her eyes, she found a pair of impassive black eyes staring into hers in the darkness, a sculpted aristocratic nose uncomfortably close to her own. She punched on reflex, rolling away and scrambling backward against the headboard.

"SAI!" she shrieked. "What the hell?!"

The light flickered on.

"Rise and shine," called Kakashi pleasantly, ignoring the sword Sasuke was pointing at his throat.

"Hi, Naruto," greeted Sai.

"No, that's Sasuke," Kakashi corrected him. "Understandable mistake, though, since he's completely orange…"

That muscle in Sasuke's tan cheek jumped.

"Why are you here?" he asked, dangerously quiet. And either she detected a slight growl, or he had a rather delicious morning voice. He looked so adorably rumpled that Sakura thought she just might forgive Kakashi for failing to be late.

"Because it's time for you two to wake up."

"I believe that's my call. I'm team leader." Sasuke muttered, eyes mutinous.

Kakashi's eyes crinkled cheerfully above his mask. "And I'm Hokage. Effectively."

Sakura sighed, knowing exactly where this was headed. "Guys, would you please quit comparing your metaphorical dicks?"

"Maa, we're bonding right now," said Kakashi in what he seemed to think was an appeasing manner. "But if you prefer, we could compare our literal—"

"NO!" She let her forehead fall into her palm. While she loved her sensei to bits, he definitely found perverse pleasure in pissing people off. She was pretty sure Naruto and Sasuke had picked up that quality from him as well.

"Kakashi. _Why are you here_?" repeated Sasuke, not amused by the comedy act.

Kakashi nodded at Sai, who had set up camp on Sasuke's vacant bed, various brushes, powders, and paints spread out around him.

"I'm here to fix Ugly's face," said Sai. "And to prevent you from going on any homicidal rampages."

"Hn. Like you could stop me," scoffed Sasuke.

"He's just joking," said Kakashi. "That's my job."

"Hold up, you assholes," Sakura snarled. "THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH MY FACE."

* * *

Ultimately, Sai was a godsend. As it happened, Kakashi actually had been a little late and by the time he had completed his version of a Hokage mission briefing, Sasuke and Sakura barely had a half hour to get to the ballroom. Sasuke refused to let Sai touch his hair, insisting on slicking it back himself, which was just as well because it allowed Sai to devote his full attention to Sakura's makeup. And then Sai hopped out the window and off their balcony, leaving them alone to get dressed, put on their dance shoes, and race to the ballroom.

When they finally walked into the ballroom, it was hardly recognizable from the night before. The chandelier and gilded ceiling were the same, as were the flame-colored drapes adorning the room and the lush, decorative greenery. What was different was the crowd of women strutting about the room, all decked out in a rainbow of bright plumage, with cascades of ruffles and dripping with crystals. The men milled around in black, blending into one homogeneous mass.

"It's like a jungle," breathed Sakura, soaking in their surroundings. "Except in reverse, you know, with plain males and fancy females."

"Hn."

Sasuke looked around the room with his arms crossed over his chest, sizing up the situation. Just how many competitors were there? Despite his inexperience, he had all the moves of the reigning world champion, better physical capabilities, and a hotter body. Sakura, on the other hand, was going on just two weeks of training. She was by no means bad, of course. She had always been a fast learner and an even harder worker. But sometimes, hard work just wasn't enough. It was nothing for her to be ashamed of, just the simple truth.

"Sasuke-kun," she called, tugging on his arm. "There's an empty table over there, let's go put down our stuff and claim it."

It wasn't a terrible idea, so he went along with her, following her as she slipped through the crowd. The table she picked was near the corner, allowing them full view of the floor and a good view of most of the other tables. They could also see some of the balconies, which probably wouldn't be filled until later in the day. He took off the blue silk robe Yuzuru had lent him and folded it over the back of his chair, becoming just another numbered, nameless lead, clad all in black. Beside him, Sakura had finished rifling through their bag and was beginning to untie her own robe. Of its own accord, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

She looked up at him from behind an annoyingly heavy curtain of pink lashes, darker and thicker than usual.

"Wait," he muttered uncomfortably, unsure what possessed him to delay the inevitable. It had been well over a week since the day she wore her costume to practice, but he still remembered _exactly_ what was under that robe, in as much detail as if he had used his sharingan to burn it into his memory.

He had done no such thing, of course. He'd barely even looked.

Still, the idea of giving people more opportunities than strictly necessary to fantasize about what was…underneath the underneath, so to speak, was suddenly intolerable. He found himself running through their routines in his head, searching for steps that might put a little too much of her on display, realizing belatedly that an integral part of this mission was to do just that.

"Your muscles will get stiff if you're cold," he explained lamely, his traitorous brain reminding him that shinobi did missions in the winter all the time. "Leave it on until we have to line up."

"Okay," she agreed too easily, not pointing out that he had already taken off his own robe.

A voice rang out, cutting him off before he could embarrass himself further.

"Good morning, and welcome to the 57th annual Fire Ball!" announced a velvety voice. "We will begin shortly, with Heat 1: Professional Open Cha Cha Cha. Would all competitors please line up in the on-deck area?"

So then there was no putting it off any longer, and she disrobed, shivering slightly in the cool room.

"Tch."

He grabbed her hand and quickly tugged her into the center of a herd of people that was making its way to a roped-off corner on the opposite side of the room. As they got nearer, a woman began shouting barely comprehensible instructions at them.

"Line up in numerical order!" She waved one arm toward a quickly forming line, and pushed people along with the other. "For each heat, you will go on the floor in flights of 30 couples each, until we reach the end of the line! Each flight will dance for 90 seconds. If you are dancing in heat 2, the samba, come back and form a new line here when you are done with this round! Callbacks will be posted on signs along the wall, so keep an eye out for your number to see if you will advance to the next round."

As the dancers shuffled into place, the woman walked down the line, checking their numbers and marking them off on a sheet.

"Please welcome our dancers to the floor for the rumba," the announcer boomed. "Judges! Call back 100 couples from 267."

The first 30 couples walked onto the floor in a silent war for the best spots, the leads taking purposeful strides while their follows sashayed alongside them. Then they stopped, each doing their own flashy combination of spinning and posing and posturing while getting into position. Within moments, the music started, and the entire floor exploded into motion.

Sasuke studied the dancers on the floor carefully. He had found the beat within the first measure of the song, a perk to having spent three years in the Land of Sound. Based on Sakura's foot tapping, it seemed she had also found the beat rather quickly. This was good. Millennia of evolution had favored successful hunters, ensuring that animals were instinctively drawn to look at things that moved. So those who found the beat and started moving first were at a definite advantage as far as drawing the judges' attention went. The key, then, was to make good use of that extra attention.

By the time all the other flights had gone, Sasuke was already sick of the song, too loud and energetic for so early in the morning. He held out his hand to Sakura, who took it and gave it a small squeeze. She'd been doing that a lot recently. She grinned at him.

"We've got this."

* * *

Two minutes later, Sakura was eating her words. She had always imagined ballroom dancing to be something classy and civilized. Evidently, that was not always the case. While most couples were probably there because of their pure love of the art form known as dancing, she was pretty sure that two or three of them were out for blood. One particularly zealous follow kept thwacking her, accenting her movements with suspiciously violent arm styling. It wasn't like the blows even hurt, but it was still distracting, especially because she couldn't afford to compromise her dancing by trying to dodge.

When she wasn't scanning her periphery for moving hazards, she took advantage of the fact that they were specifically instructed to gaze at each other like they were in love, so she spent a fair amount of time studying Sasuke's face with impunity. At the moment, his jaw was set, and she knew he was doing his best to navigate her out of range of the aggressive couple. However, they had a good spot on the floor, easily in view of three out of the six judges, so she knew he also wanted to stand their ground, at least until he was certain the majority of the judges had marked them down for callbacks.

Sasuke spun her out with a flick of his wrist then led her in a wide circle around him while she flirted with the judges, the audience, even the other dancers. Then he stopped short, forcing her to pivot on the spot and snap her eyes back where they belonged—on him—before he pulled her flush against his chest. She must have been cold because he noticed her body press firmly into his own, painfully aware of each point of contact between their thighs and their torsos when she shivered against him. He could barely recall how to breathe, except he felt the rise and fall of her chest against his. So he held her there, her hips rocking distractingly in time with his, just a fraction of a second longer than he had planned to.

The entire mission was an annoying mess of contradictions: that his family's deadliest weapon had been his sole qualification for such a piss poor excuse for a mission (he could think of at least 100 ways to track down a missing person, none of which involved dancing); that in adhering to his mother's old teachings on serving the greater good, he was blatantly ignoring her other teachings on proper public behavior; that he was currently pantomiming love with the girl he had never allowed to love him in such a way.

He let her go. Obediently, unquestioningly, she danced away, safely beyond his reach. In his opinion, that was, and always had been, the best place for her.

She was doing rather well on her own, he thought, until she stumbled, the other follow's fingers tangled in the pale pink material that fluttered from her shoulder. It was one of those sinking moments where he knew exactly what was coming before it happened, not unlike watching inept genin run around with kunai and envisioning them impaling themselves before they had even tripped. The pit in his stomach bottomed out as he saw the sheer fabric rip away, leaving her in just that ridiculous rhinestone bra and that barely functional skirt, all being pulled precariously askew.

He saw red, and leapt forward just in time to catch her as she fell.

* * *

**A/N: I JUST READ 698 AND SASUKE IS JUST SO FREAKING CUTE, DAMMIT.**

**So then I had to go write myself some fan service.**

**And for the guest who requested a little pelvis-on-pelvis dance action, this chapter is for you.**


	4. Chapter 4: Plans

**Chapter 4: In Which Nothing Goes as Planned**

_Optional Soundtrack: Boom, by Anjulie (Rumba, American style)_

* * *

"What the hell, Sasuke?!" she yelled in frustration. "Was that really necessary? Did you really have to knock me unconscious again?" That unwelcome habit of his was one of her buttons, and like a petulant child, he kept pressing it.

The Sasuke in front of her stared her down coolly. "We are newcomers, virtual unknowns. We need to seize attention by any and all means necessary. I saw an opportunity and I took it." He dragged his gaze over her barely clothed form and she shrank instinctively from his eyes. "Besides, you need all the practice you can get. You're not dancing your best right now, you're too distracted."

Ugh. Sasuke was always most talkative when he was being critical.

She gritted her teeth. While he spoke the truth, she really didn't enjoy being knocked out with the Tsukuyomi technique. This was reasonable, she thought, considering how he'd used it the last time. Briefly, she wondered about the precise workings of the technique. If she was rude to his illusory stand-in, he really wouldn't know, right? Unfortunately, more important matters demanded her attention. "What about the competition?"

"It's fine. I saw four judges mark us already. And after intentionally destroying your clothes, tripping you and apparently knocking you out, that couple is going to be disqualified for poor sportsmanship and violence." His voice was calm, and only the faint trace of a smirk betrayed his satisfaction. "The first flight of the next dance is about to start, and there will be seven more before we're on again."

Eight flights, then, each lasting about 100 seconds if she factored in the time it took to walk on and off the floor. That was almost 15 minutes, which could last ages within the Tsukuyomi.

"Cha cha," he barked. "From the top."

* * *

She woke up after what felt like a lifetime, wondering why they hadn't thought to use that technique earlier. Sasuke usually had no qualms about flaunting his status as practically a demi-god.

"Lie still, Ugly," said Sai, pushing her back onto the bench. "I'm almost done."

The majority of the skirt had ripped off with the pink overlay, so he had cut away the tattered remains, leaving only the crystal-studded waistband and the panty-like lining beneath. To make up for this, he had sliced up the bottom of Sasuke's beautiful, silk robe and was fashioning a sort of slitted skirt by attaching royal blue panels to the waistband.

"Now stand up and twirl," directed Sai, leaning over to inspect his work. She did a little spin, and the panels fanned out fluidly around her.

"I look like a harem girl," she complained, craning her neck to look at the back. "And I'm cold."

While the new costume kind of covered more of her legs, it left more of the top exposed than she was completely comfortable with. She wasn't sure how she felt about the tradeoff.

Sai nodded. "I've read that many people, particularly men, consider harems sexy. I suspect that is why the advanced form of Naruto's sexy jutsu is the harem jutsu."

"Excellent deduction," she intoned dully, wrapping her arms around herself. "But not comforting."

"Oh. Well, don't worry," said Sai. "Nobody is even looking at you, if that's what you're worried about. I checked. The men here are all a bunch of flaming homosexuals, which means everyone in this room is ogling Sasuke."

Sakura gaped. "Has nobody taught you anything about being politically correct yet?" Judging from Sai's blank stare, perhaps not. She groaned and passed the buck. "Just ask Kakashi-sensei later, ok? And I'm still cold."

A wad of blue fabric hit her in the face, the remains of Sasuke's robe.

"Wear that," Sasuke muttered, staring intently in the general direction of the dance floor. Judging from the length of the line, the second flight of the samba was only just starting. The first flight had just gotten off the floor, and was circling around to line up for the third heat, the rumba. One figure broke away from the crowd, running towards them.

"Are you okay?" she asked Sakura. "Ah, I'm Naoko, by the way. It was really terrible what happened to you two, and I just wanted you to know that that is not what dance competitions are usually like."

Sakura looked at her curiously. There was no way Sasuke could have planned this interaction, too.

"How did you know we're new to this?" She looked at the ground, drawing from the timid mannerisms of her childhood. "I-is it that evident in our dancing?"

"Oh, no! That's not it at all," said Naoko. "We just didn't recognize you. Many of us have been competing for so long, we have an idea of who's who."

"Ah," said Sakura. "W-well, even if I haven't competed before, I've watched you before, a-and," she blushed, burying her face in her hands, "I'm a reallyhugefanofyours!"

She heard a quiet snort behind her. It was Sasuke, and she wondered what had put him in such a foul mood that he couldn't hold off on being rude for just five more minutes.

Naoko's look of surprise soon gave way to a warm smile. "Thank you. Just you wait, I'm going to take good care of you," she promised.

"NAO! Hurry up!" a voice called.

"Oh, that's Shin," Naoko said. "He's always impatient. He doesn't like me going off on my own, says it's for my own good. See you later…"

"Sakura," she supplied.

"Then, see you later, Sakura!"

Naoko waved one last time and ran back to her place in line.

"You laid it on pretty thick." Sasuke watched Naoko rejoin Shin, arms flapping excitedly. "Sakura. Remember they're not our friends. Nobody here is."

"I _know_," said Sakura. "But they're not necessarily our enemies, either."

He opened his mouth to respond, but had to end the conversation with just a reproachful glance when Naoko came running back.

"Before I forget!" she said, a slip of paper in hand. She handed it to Sai. "Your work is very innovative, edgy. This is my room number, please stop by later this afternoon."

Then she was off again, leaving Sai staring at the paper blankly. He wasn't even supposed to be part of the mission.

"Should I?" he asked Sakura.

Sakura shrugged. "I guess it couldn't hurt…"

"Hn," grunted Sasuke, which was about as close as they would get to his approval.

* * *

The rest of the morning passed quickly. Sakura and Sasuke took advantage of the long waits between dances to chat with the couples around them, trying to glean as much gossip as possible. It seemed the story of Yuzuru and Yuna was old news, so it was hard to subtly get more details, except that most people were convinced Yuna would come to her senses and return in time to defend her world title. They also looked for any students of the couple from the Land of Iron, with no success—this was no surprise, as they had probably chosen to compete at the Iron Ball. What was surprising was their difficulty in finding Daisuke. Because half of the couples were eliminated with each round, it should have been easier to find him as more and more time passed, provided he hadn't already been eliminated. But finally, only 24 couples remained, and they still hadn't seen him. So Sakura played fangirl again, asking Naoko and Shin about him. But Shin just made a face and Naoko told her, in very diplomatic terms, that he was famously abrasive and they were all better off without him.

When only six couples remained, they were dismissed. The afternoon session would be devoted to selecting the top six couples in a different dance category, which included the waltz and the tango. The final rounds and the showdances were slated to be the headline events of the evening's gala, to be performed before an audience that included the likes of the daimyo. So the latin dancers dispersed to nap, eat, freshen up, practice, whatever they deemed most important.

Sasuke and Sakura took that time to regroup and plan for the evening. Both agreed it was best to keep their chakra completely suppressed in public, in the unlikely case they were up against other shinobi. It wouldn't do to blow their cover so soon. They also agreed they needed to split up during the social components of the gala, like during the cocktail hour and during the general dancing for all the guests. This was mainly so they could investigate more people, but also to make them seem more approachable. Although Sakura was pretty sure Sasuke could draw a crowd even with her on his arm, she was less sure that any men would come chat her up with him around. The harder decisions were the details, like how they could keep track of each other in a pinch and under what circumstances it would be ok to break character. Eventually, they called a temporary truce in the name of food, grooming, and personal hygiene.

It was Sakura's turn to have the room to herself, and she had just finished shaving her legs when Sasuke knocked on the door. She glanced at the clock. He was five minutes early.

He knocked again, more urgently this time.

"Hang on," she yelled. "I'm getting dressed!"

There was an unreasonably short pause, then the knocking resumed. Did he not hear her, or was he just that dead set on resuming their debate? If it were truly important, she figured he would have teleported or broken down the door or something. So, she took her sweet time pulling on her usual shorts and overskirt. Then she threw the door open with an emphatic bang.

"For the last time, Sasuke," she snapped. "There is no way I'm letting you stick your snake up my skirt!"

Kakashi blinked at her. "That sounds like a personal problem, Sakura." He gestured at the door. "May I come in? Please?"

She nodded dumbly as he ducked past her and made himself at home on the extra plush loveseat.

"Thanks," he said, sinking into the pillowy depths of the chair. "The daimyo requested my presence as his special guest today, but he really just wants free bodyguard services. Apparently, last year someone tried to stab him with a hairpin. I really can't let him think he can get away with that, so I've been finding ways to give him the slip all day."

Abandoning the daimyo in order to teach him a passive aggressive lesson about shortchanging the Hokage was either very necessary, or very irresponsible, and she wasn't quite sure which. But that was just how Kakashi rolled. His thought processes weren't like those of any normal person—hence the unending layers of masks. She was a very bright girl, but even she had a hard time keeping up with that mind of his sometimes.

"Sai wasn't really here to be my makeup artist," she accused. "You brought him along to secretly babysit the daimyo while you ditched."

"Guilty as charged," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "With you three all on missions, I didn't want to risk him feeling left out. He probably would have run off to apprentice himself to the Sage of the Six Paths or something." He smiled wryly. "I never quite realized how much more attention I should have given you kids until it was too late, you know. That was bad enough, but it'd be unforgivable if I ever let it happen again."

Kakashi's greatest strength and greatest weakness was his tendency to torture himself by replaying the past in his head, over and over again. It was bad enough that she had once considered teaming up with Naruto to forge a posthumous Icha Icha installment, just to distract him.

"No," she said slowly. "We've been over this. You did what you had to during the Chuunin Exams. Unlike with Sasuke, there was never any risk that Naruto's opponent would kill him. And I didn't even make the finals. And there was nothing any of us could have done to stop Sasuke back then."

"Not Sasuke-kun?"

She flushed a deep red.

"W-what?" she asked, even if she knew exactly what he was getting at. What she didn't know was when she'd dropped the childhood nickname, and if it had any sort of deeper meaning, like a subconscious shift in how viewed him.

He peered at her over his mask. Even without his borrowed Sharingan, there were few people with better powers of perception than Kakashi.

"So," he asked, kindly dropping the topic. "How are you holding up, Sakura?"

He patted the seat next to him, and she gratefully accepted his silent invitation, momentarily forgetting that Kakashi had just commandeered _her_ room and _her_ couch. There were a million, easier ways to answer his question, and all of them partially true. He'd deliberately given her an out. But during the rare, precious moments like these, it was hard to hide things from him simply because he was so uncharacteristically open himself. Besides, she suspected there was nobody else who understood and accepted her feelings more than Kakashi.

"I'm ok," she said carefully. "Really. But Sasuke is such a hard person to love, you know? Yet I do. We both avoid getting too into the mission, but there are moments when I know I'm letting my feelings bleed into my dancing and I'm afraid people will notice." She sighed. "He probably sees it all over my face and just ignores it so he doesn't have to deal with the trouble. He feels so close, but I know none of it is real. When this is all over, I fear that just having had this small, false taste is going to be worse then never having had anything at all."

As she lapsed into pensive silence, Kakashi patted her hand.

"Sakura," he said, his voice gentle. "The hospital needs you. And I withheld information about the mission's conditions in order to get you to accept it. If this is too much of an emotional burden, taking you off this mission is easily justifiable."

"What would you do about Sasuke?" she asked. It was more out of curiosity than anything else: she really had no intention of dropping the mission. Kakashi knew it, too. But somehow, simply knowing she had the option was comfort enough.

Kakashi shrugged. "He could easily steal somebody else's partner. Or cross dress and dance with Yuzuru. He takes after his mother, and she was a real beauty."

Sakura laughed, which was probably exactly what Kakashi was hoping she would do. "It's ok," she said. "I'm feeling magnanimous; I'll spare him the indignity of cavorting in drag in public."

"You're a kind girl, Sakura." He ruffled her hair, and she basked in the warm feeling of his approval. "And I want you to know that I really do care about your wellbeing. There was only one reason I approved your assignment to this mission."

He hesitated long enough to glance around the room, then ducked his head to her ear. Sakura found herself leaning in, subconsciously holding her breath.

"I chose you because-"

Then the doorknob clicked, and they sprang apart as Sasuke walked in. He eyed them suspiciously, but said nothing.

"Oh," said Sakura. "You're back! That was so fast, Sasuke-kun. I'm done with the room now. And Kaka-sensei is, too. Although I guess it was never even his, anyway, so we're done and it's all yours. I mean, if you want another turn, that is."

God, there she was babbling all over the place and making them look even guiltier. Not that there was anything to be guilty about, because talking behind Sasuke's back was important and _completely _necessary for her mental and emotional health.

Sasuke shook his head.

"Well, don't mind me," said Kakashi, sweeping out of the room. "I was just leaving. Can't leave the daimyo hanging, you know." He glanced slyly at Sasuke. "I look forward to your performance this evening."

Sasuke just glared balefully at him.

"Oh yeah," said Kakashi. "Don't fail, you two. Unless you intend to let Naruto be the only shinobi bringing money into the village."

Then he was gone.

* * *

It was during the last dance of the finals when she spotted Daisuke. She and Sasuke were practically flying across the floor when she caught a glimpse of him in the audience. Their target must have been pretty wealthy because he had scored a seat in the middle of the front row. He was settled right on the edge of the dance floor, close enough that a girl kicking her leg out in a rondé had accidentally grazed his cheek with her heel. For someone described as having a violent temper, he seemed surprisingly calm about the whole thing. Instead, as the song came to a close and the couple bowed, he leaned forward, kissed her hand, and whispered something. She tugged her hand away and practically fled with her partner, who looked fairly angry.

No wonder he hadn't competed. From the looks of it, their target was still searching for a partner.

In a moment of either insanity or clarity, Sakura saw an opportunity and decided she had every intention of taking it, plans be damned. Sasuke deserved a taste of his own shitty medicine, and if he had a problem with it, he could go suck it.

As the other set of finalists began their rounds, she left to go modify her costume for the showdance—it was Western-themed, complete with denim booty shorts and a cowboy hat—and she plotted.

When it was time for their showdance, Sakura stood alone in the darkness—she was supposed to take the floor first and do some fancy footwork for a bit, then Sasuke would come join her and spare her from further embarrassment. The spotlights flashed on, catching her in a blinding beam of light and following her as she strode onto the floor. Then she completely abandoned her choreography.

And her pride.

* * *

Off the floor, Sasuke watched her take her place as the lights came on, her hat tipped slightly forward and covering her face. The music started, and she looked up, threw aside her hat, and smiled mischievously at nobody and everybody. Instead of starting her proper sequence of predetermined moves, she sauntered over to the edge of the floor, coyly unbuttoned her shirt, then swung it around over her head like a lasso, revealing that stupid sparkle bra again.

Damn.

What was she _thinking_?

_Was_ she even thinking?!

He knew she hated that bra, hated being cold, hated being practically naked for a million strange eyes, all of that. Seriously, she hadn't been able to shut up about it earlier. And he really doubted that Sakura, with her famous brain, was even capable of forgetting the choreography. But there she was, taking her precious time in the spotlight and wasting it on tacky, tasteless flirtation with the audience. She was practically on some poor idiot's lap by the time he decided it was time to reel her back in, storming across the floor to grab her by the shoulder and spin her around to face him.

She laughed in his face and stepped lightly around him.

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn.

Shit.

God, she was so _annoying_.

He followed her and caught her wrist, forcing her to turn back and look at him. Then she winked, and he realized they were hand-in-hand in the middle of the floor, exactly where they were supposed to be, and exactly when they were supposed be there. There was no choice, then, but to smile and play along.

Not that he was going to make things easy for her, not after the shit she'd just pulled. If she wanted to deviate from the plan, he was quite capable of making that happen for her. And if she regretted it, that was_ her_ problem. He bent his head to hers, letting his lips brush against her ear as he whispered his challenge.

"Try and keep up, Sa-ku-ra. If you can, that is."

* * *

"That was _ridiculously_ cute. And hot." Naoko insisted, since Sakura clearly wasn't buying the praise. "Especially the ending, where he threw you over his shoulder and stalked off the floor."

Sakura flushed. "I'm glad you liked it," she said. "We had to make some, ah, last minute changes to the routine, and I wasn't sure we pulled it off."

"Oh, you definitely did," said Naoko. "The chemistry between you two is just so_…_electric. I got chills when you were goading him and he looked so off-guard and annoyed, but then you winked and he just_—_wow."

Sakura smiled and played with the medal around her neck—third place. They'd barely qualified for the world championship. "You were fabulous, too." That was an understatement. As Yuzuru had predicted, Naoko and Shin had won the whole thing. "Your lifts were so fluid and seamless, and so romantic. It was a perfect rumba."

"You're quite sweet." Naoko smiled slyly. "Speaking of romantic, you should have seen it when you passed out this morning and he carried you off the floor, _princess style_."

Since she hadn't woken up on the middle of the dance floor, she really shouldn't have been surprised, but it hadn't occurred to her to question it earlier. She'd been just a little too busy being pissed off.

"I—he did _what_?"

"He carried you off the floor! After he caught you, the way he wrapped you up in his arms was so heartrendingly tender. He usually looks so bored all the time, but when he's with you, sometimes you manage to pull such subtle, yet amazing expressions out of him. It really transforms your dancing, it makes it so _real_."

Sakura had to work rather hard to keep the humble, blushing smile plastered on her face. In truth, Naoko probably would have found the whole episode a lot less romantic if she knew Sasuke had knocked her out himself in a cheap bid for vengeance and attention. He had a bit of a problem, to be honest.

An elderly couple came by, then, and started to congratulate Naoko on her spectacular win. Sakura took the opportunity to excuse herself, as Sasuke had deemed her incapable of being impartial enough to investigate her friend properly. That was fine. She had other plans, anyway.

She passed by the bar, chatting with the bartender while he mixed her up a cocktail, something colorful, fruity, and secretly not even alcoholic. Prop in hand, she wove her way through the crowd, very glad she had chosen a sensible, black evening dress when someone jostled her and spilled a few drops of wine on her. Within seconds, it was dry and nobody could even tell. Black was nice like that—there was a reason ANBU wore black, and it wasn't just to help them hide in the shadows. It turns out black uniforms hid bloodstains pretty well, too.

She scanned the dim room, knowing that somewhere, Kakashi, Sai, and Sasuke were all going about their work, even if only Kakashi's chakra signature was detectable.

"Looking for someone?"

A warm arm curled around her waist and tugged, and she jumped at the bold contact.

Daisuke was sitting on one of the couches behind her, coaxing her towards him until she was caged in the space between his knees.

"I really enjoyed your show. We could continue where we left off earlier, if you'd like," he offered generously, all sly smiles and smoldering eyes.

His pupils were dilated, she noted, which was most likely a physiologic response to sexual arousal. Or drugs, but probably not.

Crap.

She realized, in that moment, that she was out of her depth. It was not that she couldn't take him on if she had to—she definitely could, and probably with just her pinky—it was more that she had no idea how to encourage his flirtations. Having spent most of her life horribly, irrevocably in love with a boy who had no time for such nonsense, she really wasn't well practiced. And while most people had figured things out during puberty, back when it was socially acceptable to be awkward, she had been so focused on reuniting her boys that she now found herself feeling like a gawky preteen, trapped in a 17 year old body.

"Oh come on," he said, rolling his eyes. "You're not actually together with your partner, are you? So it's fine. Live a little."

Sakura stared back coolly, boldly. "What makes you so sure?"

"Please," he scoffed. "I don't think there's been a single straight lead on the floor all day. Except for maybe that prick, Shin."

Really, flirting had been a lot easier on the dance floor, back when she was sure Sasuke would swoop in before the choreography was beyond salvaging and things got out of hand. Daisuke's arm was still wrapped around her, and she became hyperaware of its continued presence with each little motion she made. If she could have stopped breathing, she would have, if only to avoid the awkwardness of his touch. But she couldn't, so she settled on letting her lungs inflate less and less.

"That's a little rude, don'tyouthink?"

Her words spilled out in a breathless rush, not nearly as challenging as she had originally intended. But whatever he heard in her voice pleased him because he relaxed his hold and sat back, lazily rubbing a circle on her side with his free hand.

"Perhaps. But you see, I've discovered that girls _like_ rude. They don't realize it, but they crave it."

She wondered how best to crush that thought. She needed information from him, so she had to act somewhat interested. However, on behalf of womankind, it seemed irresponsible to let him continue thinking he could get away with such a mindset forever.

"Ah, I knew it. You do, don't you?"

In her mind, she saw Sasuke's face momentarily, set in an irritable scowl. Daisuke was overly presumptuous, but ironically, he wasn't completely wrong. To be fair, though, it wasn't like she was specifically attracted to Sasuke's rudeness. She just liked Sasuke, who happened to be rude a lot of the time. And it was a different sort of rude, anyway.

"Kid, you think too hard. _Relax._" He patted his knee. "Aren't your feet tired from dancing all day? Sit down." Then he tried to pull her hips down onto his lap and she jerked away, unable to think of a way to disguise the motion fast enough.

"I can't!" she said, voice rising nervously.

And she really couldn't: instead of a kunai, her thigh holster held the smallest of Sasuke's summons, a young garter snake who was getting increasingly restless as the night wore on. If she sat down, he would inevitably notice the wriggling, and she really had no idea how she would ever be able to explain that one away. In the worst-case scenario, he might realize she was no ordinary dancer. At best, he'd think her a sexual deviant, and she didn't exactly want to go down that road, either.

He sighed, clearly losing interest and weighing the trouble he'd have to go through for her against his need for a partner.

He stood.

"W-wait!" she cried out, hugging his arm.

"What, kid?"

"It's one thing for a performance, but when it's real, it's embarrassing, especially in public." she whispered by way of explanation, burying her face in his sleeve for a moment. Then she turned away and downed her cocktail to stall while she tried to figure out what to do next, hating herself for ever thinking of attempting seduction on a mission that explicitly didn't require it, anyway. "But if I just have a little something to calm my nerves first…come with me?"

"Now you're talking." He offered her his arm. "You know, you're like a completely different person off the floor. But on the floor, the way you dance reminds me of someone…"

* * *

Over the course of his investigation, Sasuke had determined several things.

First, Shin was a cautious person.

Throughout the evening, he had never let go of his champagne flute once, his index always hovering over its glass lip. He had kept a watchful eye on Naoko's, too, shooting her sharp looks if ever she tried to put it down. At first Sasuke had wondered if he was specifically worried about being poisoned, thinking of the older couple from Iron that Miyuki said had tried to lace the water supply with drugs. Later, however, after observing a series of paranoid quirks—this included waiting to eat until at least 30 minutes after someone else had tried the same dish without dying, standing with his back to the wall even when it was socially awkward to do so, and systematically kicking open the doors to all the bathroom stalls before finally picking one and taking a piss—he decided that Shin was probably just the type of person who never entered a room without planning at least three escape routes. Or he was up to something.

Second, Shin was rather protective of his partner.

At the beginning of the gala, he had been somewhat reluctant any time Naoko left his side. Then Sakura had ended her conversation with Naoko and disappeared into the crowd. After that, Shin had refused to leave her alone, even when someone tried to drag her to the ladies' room for girl talk. Throughout, Naoko remained chipper, oblivious even. There was only one time when she slipped and rolled her eyes slightly. He suspected that she was not quite as clueless as she acted, at least where Shin's odd behavior was concerned, but that she had simply gotten sick of dealing with the situation. Really, Shin's conduct was odd enough that Sasuke wondered if there was a particular reason for it.

Despite everything, he didn't come across as a very controlling sort of man: he tended to sit back and let Naoko dominate conversations, to fade into the background and bend to her every whim. And this seemed to make him happy, just basking in her presence. This wasn't exactly an unfamiliar arrangement to Sasuke, who had seen it happen a million times, pretty much every time Sakura invited Ino out and the blonde showed up with another spellbound man. (It was because of these incidents that Naruto had mandated that Team 7 hangouts remain sacred, exclusive events, even if it meant he couldn't drag Hinata along.)

At any rate, Shin seemed to genuinely care about his partner and have her best interests in mind, even if it seemed to irritate her a little and make him come off a little strange. The only question was, was he willing to perform criminal acts, such as kidnapping, in order make Naoko number one?

Sasuke nursed this possibility, standing quietly in his corner, sipping his drink and deftly deflecting every other woman who tried to chat him up, and every single one of the men. He had decided he needed to interact with some of them, unfortunately, to keep up the appearance of being engrossed in the evening's festivities. The party had yet to show its first signs of dying down when Sasuke realized Naoko was slowly working her way toward him. He lowered his glass and nodded curtly in greeting. She bit her lip and pointed in the direction of the bar.

"It's Sakura."

He looked over, and saw a familiar pink head of hair bobbing over a little glass of something bright red. She was nodding sympathetically as a man—Daisuke—ranted and stormed, spilling his drink a little as he gesticulated angrily. A few drops splashed her face, but she didn't bat an eyelash, just reached over and patted his arm comfortingly. He grabbed her hand and was yelling at her when Shin suddenly appeared and pulled him away.

Sasuke drew a third conclusion: Shin was a pretty decent guy.

Beside him, Naoko bounced nervously on her toes and he felt a little guilty that her partner was endangering himself to bail Sakura out of a situation she certainly could have handled on her own.

"Thanks," he muttered discreetly. "I'll take care of it."

* * *

It was definitely true that inebriated people said some of the strangest things. Alcohol had the amusing yet dangerous ability to draw out the raw, primitive thoughts that sober people usual had the presence of mind to repress and reprocess. However, Sakura was of the opinion that it could not draw out thoughts or feelings that didn't already exist deep in the dusty corners of someone's brain.

It was for this reason that she was inclined to believe Daisuke sincerely had no idea what had happened to Yuna, and that he had never truly wanted her to disappear. Several shots and more than a few probing questions had reduced him to a raging, heartbroken, drunken mess. Of course, while she pitied him, it did not really make her think any better of him since he was currently channeling his fury into violence against a girl he barely knew, namely _her_.

So when Shin stepped in to help her, for no good reason except that Naoko liked her and that he hated Daisuke, she felt a special surge of gratitude for him, hoping Sasuke had found an equally good reason not to suspect him. She was pleasantly surprised, then, when Sasuke arrived at the scene and, after helping Shin drag Daisuke away from her, inclined his proud head to Shin in gratitude.

"You don't fucking _understand_!"

In true divo fashion, he had quickly reclaimed the spotlight and was beginning to shout again. People in the gathering crowd watched him with a mixture of disapproval and gleeful anticipation, as these sorts of events were never complete without a little drama. Or a lot of drama.

"I loved her, and she _still_ fucking left," he spat. "If she hadn't fucking disappeared, I could have made her love me again."

He was frozen in time, she realized, trapped by the pain of a loss that had happened years prior. "Daisuke-san…"

"Shut up! I don't want to be fucking pitied, especially not by an inexperienced little girl like you, who probably hasn't even had her fucking cherry popped! Kid, you know _nothing _about love."

"I know enough," she snapped. "Enough to know not to force love on someone who will never love me back, when to let go, and how to face reality and _move on_."

Several things happened then. Daisuke lunged, only to fall short right as Shin tackled him to the ground. In that same moment, she found her elbow caught in an iron grip and was a split second away from ramming said elbow into someone's gut before she realized it was Sasuke quietly escorting her away. The gesture probably made him look like an appropriately protective partner to everyone else, but she was pretty sure his true goal was to protect Daisuke and to prevent Sakura from smashing his face in and blowing their already shaky cover. When they finally reached a table in some shadowy corner, he sat her down and practically threw a glass of water across the table at her, his face carefully blank.

"Sorry," she said. "But we've been friends long enough that I really hope you know I wouldn't have lost control or made a scene back there."

He snorted, arms crossed while he glared at a point on the wall just behind her head. "You mean more of a scene than you already did?"

"Well, not a crime scene, anyway."

"Hn."

And still he refused to look at her, only breaking eye contact with the wall long enough to toss back a shot of something that looked like vodka but was probably just water. They were on a mission, after all, and it was unlikely that anything—not even her little indiscretions—could upset Sasuke enough to make him do something so irresponsible as drink on the job. So she let him brood in terse silence, choosing instead to watch the security officers finally close in on Daisuke and relieve Shin, who was still holding him back.

"I think Shin is a nice guy," said Sakura, deliberately vague in case anyone happened to overhear, but firm.

To her surprise, Sasuke gave a curt nod. "Aa."

"And Daisuke is a douche, but I don't think he's _bad_, exactly," she continued, "just a misguided chauvinist mess."

"Hn."

"And Naoko-"

She was interrupted by a sudden flare of chakra in the distance, faint but clear. Across the table, Sasuke had already risen from his seat and was quickly scanning the room.

"-has been out of sight for far too long," he finished, his mouth set in a grim line.

With a few long strides, he was crossing the room, already melting into the throng.

"I guess I'll check by the restrooms," she called at his back, feeling a little lame.

* * *

It was Sasuke who found Naoko first. By the time Sakura skidded into the dim hallway, Sasuke was just punching a man in a dark suit, who dissipated in a cloud of soot.

"A clone," he grunted, irritated. At his feet, there lay an upended tray of empty champagne flutes and two women: Naoko, and one of the nameless waitresses. "The clone was casting some sort of genjutsu on her, and the woman kept trying to give her sips of wine."

She was unconscious but breathing, and Sakura was relieved to find her pulses were normal.

"I think she'll be fine," she said, quickly looking for any obvious bruises or scratches. She tossed Sasuke a vial. "Could you collect some of that champagne? I'd like to analyze it."

He complied wordlessly, both of them lost in their own thoughts. For better or for worse, it seemed she had gotten her wish: Sasuke seemed much less suspicious that either Shin or Naoko was the culprit.

* * *

**2/10/15: It's been pretty much forever since I last updated anything, and for that, I apologize. Unfortunately, my current rotation is much more demanding than my previous ones were, but I hope to be able to update more reliably after this one is over. At any rate, I must say that I really, truly appreciate all the reviews and messages you guys have sent me for my various fics. When I finally logged in again, I was overwhelmed and so happy, yet sad I can't write more at the moment. Oh well -_-**

**AU Hospital Headcanon: While operating, Sakura and Tsunade's music of choice is Beyonce.**


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